The woman known only as 'Thing One' stared down at the holographic display that appeared to float 'within' the table. A few blue feathers brushed against her shoulder as she leaned forward and gave a thoughtful hum. She was surprised at how quickly their Karnakian 'guest' became just another member of the team, although when the Silken Feather smiled her fanged rictus still gave Thing One a queasy thrill of fear. Oscar stood on the other side of the table from her, lost in his own pondering.

"This should be do-able," said Thing One. She looked up at the broad-shouldered American. "It will be tight quarters for you."

Oscar shrugged. "I'll deal with it. We need to keep the diameter as small as possible."

"It's your coffin," she replied. "Most of these components I can get ahold of, but we'll also need a very compact yet high-output power source."

"[I've taken care of that,]" replied the Silken Feather. "[One of the items I brought with me is a zero-point energy device.]"

Thing One kept her face neutral. Money didn't mean so much anymore, but still...such an item would be worth a fortune on Earth. She began thinking through how to discreetly get hold of it afterwards.

The Karnakian's snout lowered and her four eyes stared deeply into Thing One's face. "[I will, of course, need that device back after the job.]"

"Of course!" replied Thing One, far too cheerfully. She knew without looking that Oscar would be sporting an infuriating smirk and felt a flare of mild anger in her gut.

A soft thwap sounded from nearby. Upon a stool sat a large block of foam with a crudely spray-painted bullseye on it. A playing card now sprouted from off to one side of the bullseye's center.

Thing One spun to take her irritation out on the card-thrower. "Do you have to do that?"

"Yeah, it helps me think," replied Rory. He stood about twenty paces from the target, holding a deck of playing cards. He slipped the next top card off of the deck and squinted at his target, pinching the card in between a thumb and forefinger while holding it parallel to the floor. In a sudden swift move he snapped his hand forward, spinning the card like a Frisbee. The card sank neatly in the center of the target, just next to its predecessor.

Thing One performed a sarcastic golf-clap. "Congratulations, now we can rest easy in case we ever get attacked by a rampaging bit of foam."

The Silken Feather, in contrast, looked absolutely delighted at the feat. Her toe-claws clacked against the warehouse floor as she walked over to Rory. "[May I try one?]"

The cardsharp looked up at her in surprise. "Um, sure?" He slipped another card off of his deck and handed it to her. She looked at the small cardboard rectangle in her claws, then back up at Rory. Maybe it was Thing One's imagination, but she could swear that the huge alien's expression and posture could be best described as...coy?

"[I'm afraid I didn't see exactly how you held it. Can you give me some pointers?]"

Rory stared blankly for a moment, then shrugged and pulled out a card for himself. He took up the same throwing position as he had before. "All right, you want to hold the card like so, okay?"

The Karnakian nodded, her face split in a very fanged grin as she mirrored Rory's posture.

"Yeah, that grip looks good but you need to hold it...do you mind if I move your arm?"

"[Not at all!]"

He reached out and adjusted her feathered appendage, and Thing One didn't miss the little thrilled shudder in the Karnakian's tail that resulted from the physical contact.

The Russian sidled over to Oscar. "Is that monster flirting with him?" she whispered as the Silken Feather made her first throw. It sailed up and over the target, missing the block completely.

Oscar gave the barest shrug and his own whispered response to Thing One. "Who knows? Maybe she's got a thing for portly guys with beards."

The Karnakian's grin grew even wider. "[Can I try again?]" She took every opportunity in the following lesson to initiate or ask for touching by Rory. He was a patient tutor, seemingly oblivious to her advances (if that was indeed what the feathered alien was up to). After another ten minutes of coaching, the Silken Feather's card landed almost dead-center in the target.

"Good job!" said Rory. Then he added a muffled "Hnnngmmph!" as she hugged him into her floofed-out chest feathers. His cards fell to the floor in a sprawl as he wriggled against her grip.

The side door to the warehouse opened with a thump, bringing in a cold draft of air and one pleased-looking Zara. She strode in, her aquiline face set in smiling triumph. "I found our pigeon. He's got the right security level, also has a thing for gambling..." She trailed off and raised an eyebrow at the bit of intimacy before her. "Should I give you two some alone time?"

Thing One smirked as the Silken Feather hastily released Rory. The man straightened his jacket and tried to look dignified and composed, as if he hadn't just been swept off his feet.

"[No, haha!]" said the Karnakian. "[I was just thanking [Rory]! He taught me a new skill!]"

"Did he now," replied Zara, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

That sarcasm went sailing right over the Silken Feather's head like a badly-thrown playing card. "[Yes, he's quite skilled!]" The huge alien looked down at Rory and winked one eye. "[I like it when my partners have skills. It makes interactions much more fun.]"

Thing One had to bite her lip to avoid laughing at the resulting look of panic on Rory's face.

Oscar, to his very great not-surprise, found himself confronted by Rory not long after. He was in the middle of figuring out a bit of tricky fingering for an old Dorarizin drinking song. It wasn't easy; the xenos had never heard of Guido D'Arezzo, so as far as humans were concerned the aliens' musical notation was something out of a cross-eyed nightmare. In the midst of his musical musing, he felt a large bearded presence standing in front of him. He looked up with a mild smile into Rory's face.

"What the fuck is she up to?" Rory hissed. His normally half-lidded eyes were now wide and staring with fear, the look of a deer who might just have caught wind of somebody nearby wearing an obnoxious orange vest. He had his hands on his hips, and he darted his head around in obvious fear of catching the attentions of a certain blue-feathered teammate.

The larger human reached up and booped Rory in the middle of his forehead. "Don't ask me, buddy. I haven't been around Karnakians all that much."

Rory bared his teeth, but it was more a show of exasperation than anything else. "Oh, as opposed to us plebians who never FUCKING set eyes on one of the gods-be-damned raptors until a certain shaven-headed menace and his Russian buddy decided to just let one of 'em loose on Earth, right?"

Oscar raised a finger. "Let's be specific, here. Valya is not my buddy."

"Fuck. You. With. A. Moldy. Breadstick. What is she UP TO?" Rory put a hand over his mouth at his near-shout towards the end.

Oscar set aside his guitar with a sigh. "Karnakians, whatever their other faults, are very much like us. They're kinda enthusiastic and very spiritual, but beyond that they can vary just as much as you or I." He made a rueful grimace and shrugged. "Shit, dude, I don't even know her real name. But from what little I know she views herself as the ultimate thief."

Rory blew out a breath. "Yeah, so?"

"So? So you just so happened to demonstrate quite the ability in that area, what with that little slight-of-hand demonstration when you first met." Oscar slung his guitar back into his lap and plinked out a few alien chords. "And then you went and did that card-throwing act. At the very least, my guess is she wants to recruit you to join her in her life of crime." Oscar's face settled into an even more evil grin. "But who can say? Maybe she just wants to marry you."

Captain Rgrarshok stood at the front of the empty bridge, drinking in the sight of the lovely blue-and white crescent planet Dirt stretching to either side of the holographic display. She heard the tick-tack of toe-claws behind her. From the cadence of that tapping, she knew those claws belonged to a certain white-furred Veridicator. "{No news yet, Hnrahnan,}" Rgrarshok said without turning around.

"{This is intolerable,}" growled Hnrahnan as she stepped up beside the Captain. Her head barely came up even to the giant Dorarizin's shoulder.

"{We agreed to give them time to complete the mission.}"

"{It's been three weeks with no word!}"

"{Not exactly. We've gotten 'everything proceeding as planned' messages from Little-Sniffer, but nothing else.}"

Hnrahnan crossed her arms and huffed. "{We don't even know what their plan is.}"

"{That's also by design. We're not involved, so this remains an affair between tiny-chomper factions and out of both of our jurisdictions.}"

"{Yes, yes. It makes sense, but that doesn't curtail my craving for information.}" The Veridicator's muzzle twitched briefly into a sad smile. "{I guess that's what one could call an occupational hazard.}"

The Captain chuckled. "{I suppose so.}"

The pair stood in silence as they regarded the planet below. Rgrarshok exerted every bit of her considerable self-control to act natural. She'd participated in circumventing one of the most important laws of the Senate by letting that feathered menace travel to the surface of Dirt, and if the Veridicator caught the slightest hint of worry in her posture or voice then...well, then Hnrahnan would not rest until she'd dug the truth out of her.

"{I'm glad to see you doing well,}" said Hnrahnan after a while. "{I was worried about you for a long time.}"

Rgrarshok looked down at her with a surprised set to her ears. "{Really?}"

"{Of course. Leaving the Inquisition as you did was...well, I didn't know where you'd wind up. The best I'd imagined was as a mid-level XO on some tramp cargo-hauler.}"

The Captain settled a giant paw on Hnrahnan's shoulder. "{You should have had more faith in me.}"

Hnrahnan sighed and placed her own paw over Rgrarshok's. "{You're right. I'm glad that you're still an investigator, even if it is for the Senate. And I like your crew. Not to mention I'm pleased with Bgrarh, he seems to be a good and steady mate. You deserve that.}"

Rgrarshok knew there was more coming, so she waited. Hnrahnan said nothing else, so she finally prompted her. "{I sense an unspoken 'however'.}"

"{It's Little-Sniffer. I know you trust him, but I don't. Not yet. His history is far too obscure, especially where [Martin] is concerned.}"

The Captain could smell what was coming, but played along. "{There are ways to get around that obscurity.}"

Hnrahnan stepped around in front of Rgrarshok, blocking the view of the fertile planet outside. She had a gentle half-smile on her face. "{Such an action would cross too many lines for me. I'm a servant of the Empire, not the Senate.}" She peered up at the Captain. "{Whereas you serve the Senate, not the Empire.}"

Rgrarshok sighed. "{Ask your question.}"

"{Oh, there's no questioning about it. You're far too canny to let some random tiny-chomper run loose on your ship without knowing everything about him.}" Hnrahnan leaned back and crossed her arms. "{Tell me I'm wrong.}"

The Captain stared back steadily, and then shrugged. "{Very well. I committed a gross invasion of privacy and got ahold of Little-Sniffer's un-redacted file.}"

"{Does he know of your actions?}"

"{What do you think?}"

Hnrahnan's nose twitched, and her posture relaxed as she silently took in information from the Captain's scent, her posture, every micro-expression on Rgrarshok's face. Finally Hnranan nodded an ear. "{He knows. And he's okay with that, for some reason...why? He held a secret of his own? Ah yes, that's it.}"

Rgrarshok bared her teeth. "{Enough of your [parlor tricks]. If you must know, he was reactivated by [Martin] before he joined our crew.}"

The Veridicator dropped her arms to her sides, and now she was very much not smiling. "{Your reports mentioned nothing about that.}"

"{Because it was a purely internal affair as regarding to my pack. He was forced into it by [Martin], in the same manner as that [bastard] did to our prisoners. Little-Sniffer was not sent to steal secrets or cause trouble, his only task was to find out why tiny-chompers are in such demand.}"

Hnrahnan snorted. "{You told him that too, I suppose?}"

The Captain kept her face placid. She knew she had to admit to the small infractions to conceal her much larger ones. "{I did. We arranged a deal with [Martin]. He released Little-Sniffer from his obligations, and in exchange I agreed to keep Little-Sniffer's mission a secret.}"

"{Because otherwise you'd reveal [Martin's] treachery. I see. I can't say I'd have done the same thing.}"

Rgrarshok leaned forward, nearly touching her nose against Hnrahnan's face. "{Oh, I know exactly what the much-vaunted Inquisition would do. You'd officially interrogate Little-Sniffer, bring everything out in the open, arrest everyone, punish the guilty to the fullest extent possible.}"

The Veridicator's eyes widened. "{I-}"

"{Shut up. You want the truth? Here it is. You would have sent Little-Sniffer home in disgrace. You would have advertised the mendacity of certain tiny-chompers and weakened their species' position in the Senate. You would have torn it all down, destroyed everything in the name of your holy crusade to expose wrongdoing.}"

Rgrarshok leaned back as she continued. "{You would have robbed this crew of a superb pack-mate and ally. Little-Sniffer has proven himself time and again. I trust him with my life, as do we all.}"

Hnrananh's teeth ground together, a soft but deadly sussuration that resounded throughout the bridge. "{You always were too optimistic, Rgrarshok. Why'd you ever join the Inquisition in the first place?}"

"{Because I foolishly thought it was the best way to serve the Throne-at-The-Center-of-All-Things.}" Without waiting for a reply, Rgrarshok spun on her heel and marched out of the bridge. She could feel Hnrahnan's eyes boring into her back the entire time.

Martin held one arm across his chest, using that arm as a rest for his other elbow and in turn propping up his chin as he regarded the glossy black ovoid in front of him with something akin to lust. The object of his desire sat in a white, sterile-looking cradle surrounded by a bevy of instruments and scanners. The lab around him and his companion was equally pristine, with soft white lighting and a sound-deadening rubbery floor.

"When can we start?" he asked.

His companion, a balding and stoop-shouldered man by the name of Daniel, wrung his hands together. "We have to be very careful, sir. This is the one and only sample we have."

"I know that! But the data in this thing is designed to be readable no matter what. Why is it taking so long?"

The scientist rubbed his forehead. "We know the code phrase to trigger the Egg's display mode. If your intel is accurate-"

"It is."

"-er, well then I should just need to supply the Egg with ordinary raw materials. Silica, mainly, with some organic compounds. That's not the problem."

Martin dropped his hands to his sides and rounded on the scientist. "Then what is the problem?"

Daniel's eyes went wide and he held up his hands to ward off the furious Martin. "First, I need more help. I'm all alone here."

The spymaster nearly snapped at the man to stop sniveling and get on with it. But then he figured that it was a good time to show magnanimity. He placed a hand on the scientist's shoulder and gave his warmest, most sincere smile. "I know, and believe me I appreciate what you've done so far. But this is incredibly secret. I can't just pull people in willy-nilly, I have to vet them thoroughly. Another week or so at most, and I can get you a couple more people. Chaudhari's looking very promising."

The name seemed to give the scientist fresh strength. The harried look in his eyes turned into a gleam of hope. "Really? Well, if you can get her in here then that'll help tremendously. But there's another problem."

Martin rolled his eyes and made a 'get on with it' motion with his free hand.

"It's the translators, sir. You do understand that they're not stand-alone components, yes? Every translator is linked with the others in a non-centralized matrix. It has to be that way, for naming conventions if nothing else. I can't just type in the trigger phrase. By now the xenos will be looking for it. It would be like sending up a signal flare from our location."

Daniel walked away from Martin, causing the latter's comforting hand to drop away from his shoulder. He didn't notice as he started pacing around the Egg's resting place. "And that's just the start. If we get the Egg to 'grow' into its display mode, then any data we pull off of it will be in Jornissian. Can we trust our translators at that point? The xenos will have real-time access to the matrix. It wouldn't take much effort on their part, just some errant mis-translations here and there and then the data on the Egg would become useless. We wouldn't know which bits to trust."

By now the scientist's hands were almost white with the force of his wringing. But that wringing slowed as Martin's delighted laugh echoed through the lab.

"Oh, is that all? You should have said that sooner." With a magician's flourish, Martin pulled a data chip out of his coat pocket. He held it out to the scientist, who took it with curious caution.

"What is this, sir?"

"A complete Jornissian-to-human translation matrix. One that you can use without accessing the GalNet."

Daniel stared in awe at the little fleck of plastic and silicon in his palm. This was the Holy Grail for just about any government on Earth one could care to name. "Where...but...sir...how did you get this?"

Martin crossed his arms and smirked. "You know I can't tell you. Let's just say it's a donation from a benefactor who wishes to remain anonymous."

Christian Murphy glanced sideways as an unfamiliar woman seated herself on the stool next to him. He resisted the urge to do a double-take; she was way too beautiful to be stuck up in this frozen neck of the woods. He played it cool, however, and waited until the bartender was near before making his move.

"An Old Fashioned, please," said the woman. Her voice was just as gorgeous as the rest of her, smoky but not hoarse or grating.

"Put it on my tab," said Christian smoothly. He smiled and raised his own glass to her.

"My thanks," she replied. "But I don't know if I should accept drinks from strangers."

He waved his free hand in a 'aw shucks' fashion. "I've got no, whaddyacall, agenda here. Just welcoming a newcomer to our sunny paradise." Christian motioned with his glass towards the nearest window. It was pitch-black outside, and the window itself sported a considerable layer of frost.

She smiled at him, her dimples making his heart sing. "So what do you do?"

"I work at the base."

The woman arched an eyebrow playfully. Her drink arrived, and she accepted it with a graceful nod towards the bartender. "That sounds exciting. Do you get to play with weapons?"

Christian knew this broad was way too sophisticated to fall for any horseshit. No, for her he had to downplay it and act all self-deprecating. "Nah, nothing like that. Mostly it's just watching TV screens while my butt goes numb."

"Aw, too bad."

"What about you? What's a dazzling urbanite like you doing in a place like this?"

She gave him a sly look from under her eyelashes as she traced one delicate finger around the rim of her glass. Something about the motion made it seem as if she'd like to do the same to his lips. "I'm afraid that I am affected with wanderlust. Normally I have a more substantial nest egg to assist me, but it's become a little depleted. I'd like to replenish it. I have some moderate skill at games of chance, do you know if there are any local games that are worthwhile?"

Christian's heart-rate increased. This woman was not only a stone-cold stunner but also a gambler? He tried to assume a casual slouch as he replied. "I might. I'm not too shabby myself when it comes to cards. There's one local game I've been to a couple of times. I know they meet tomorrow, if you're interested. I could go with you."

"Really? I'd like that, but I'm kind of in a bind. I'm almost broke...," she shuddered ever so slightly. "...and, well, I'm worried about such a game going south. If that happened, I'd need someone in my corner who is quite able, both in cards and in dealing out violence."

It had been many years since Christian had done more than his employer's standard small-arms training, but he still felt compelled to respond. "I can help with either of those." He leaned onto the bar and flexed as much as he could. "Don't you worry."

She shot him a panicked look from under her eyelids, as if she was a stag caught in the open by a pack of wolves. "Don't just say that. I really need your help."

"I'm here for you." For the briefest of moments, Christian actually meant it.